MOO 18: Moth Effect?
by Amanita Jackson
Summary: Month O' Oneshots 18! Despite many technical difficulties, I soldier on! Another BlaiseTheodore, hopefully pretty cute. A little description of Theodore and what happens after Theodore sees Blaise with Draco.


A/N: Technical difficulties once more. I swear, my internet is out to get me. I had just finished the story when my internet decided to go BING and the little "Network has little or no connection" (read: "heh, you loser, we are enjoying your rage and helpless fury. We timed this, you know. at the most inconvenient possible time for you, you know. Ha. We laugh at your pain and misery. Have a good day, pathetic human scum.") screen popped up. So then, this morning, I go and it's still not running. So I finally get it up and going and guess what? Bloody Mary took my memory stick and she won't give it back. I've been yelling at her for like the past hour and I still can't find it. I did the Bloody Mary thing yesterday, holding an iron candlestick in case she tried anything. then I leant it against the mirror so she couldn't get through while I was asleep. So hey, guess what? Instead of doing anything directly, she freaking stole my memory stick. I swear to you, that thing was IN the computer, I put it there myself last night. I distinctly remember switching USB ports with it, because sometimes my computer gets cranky if someonething's in the upper port. Now it's gone. I'm going off to fold towels and continue yelling at various occult folks until one of them owns up and forks it over. LikeALL my stuff was on that thing. Stupid occult. Whoever took it is getting an iron candlestick in the face. (I already threatened my sister with the ice cream scoop and she didn'ttake it.) Gah. Right, moving on.

MOO: #18

Pairing: Blaise/Theodore, slight Blaise/Draco

Dedication: For lucius, just cos. (waves) Hallo out there!

Disclaimer: Would I be worrying about mymemory stick that wasstolen by ghosts that is full of fics if I actually owned any of these people? Well, yes, but that's not the point.

Warning: Slash, yes, yes, you all know the drill...

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Theodore Nott didn't speak very much. He shouted at the world with his hands and his face and his body.

When Theodore was watching someone, a common occurrence, he would rest his head on his hand and idly play with his hair, his concentration rendering words superfluous.

When Theodore was angry, he would grind his teeth and exude silent fury.

When Theodore was sad, he would retreat behind a soft, cold, quiet façade and hide until the world went away.

When Theodore was scared, he would clench his hands and the fear would whisk any words he would have had away.

When Theodore was embarrassed, his cheeks would flush and a rosy tinge would radiate from him, its flustered heat smothering anything Theodore might have voiced.

When Theodore was nervous or trying to decide upon something, he would bite his lip to stopper any telltale sound that might escape from his beautiful mouth.

When Theodore was very happy, which was not a common occurrence, his whole being would light up and it would seem like his very soul was dancing free, rendering words superfluous.

When Theodore was sleeping, he looked like a fallen angel.

Theodore talked in his sleep.

When Theodore watched Blaise, his favourite pastime, a small smile graced Theodore's face in his hands as he idly played with his hair.

When Theodore saw Blaise kissing Malfoy, his silent fury was subtly emphasised by an equally silent snarl, feral as the shadows that hunt beneath the sea.

When Theodore saw that Blaise liked it, he hid from the world behind the softest, coldest, quietest, _hurt_ mask he had ever put on.

When Theodore saw that Blaise saw him watching the two young men, he bolted down the stone staircase with his hands clenched almost as tight as his stomach, so tight that the knuckles were paler than Draco's porcelain skin.

When Theodore stopped running and saw that Blaise had caught up with him, his rosy red cheeks felt like bursting into such a flame as to rival the one in his heart.

When Theodore couldn't sleep that night and heard that Blaise couldn't either from the telltale tossing and turning, he bit his lip until he could taste the metallic, familiar tang of blood trickling from the inside of his dry, dry mouth.

When Theodore felt Blaise made room for him the second he was through the hangings, and furthermore felt Blaise's arm snake around his slim, scrawny, too-thin waist and pull him snug and flush with Blaise's own beautiful body, Theodore practically glowed in the dark as his soul danced in triumph under the moonlit sky.

When Theodore finally fell asleep with a satisfied smile on his face, with his mouth hanging open like a child's, Blaise buried his face in the crook of the thinner boy's neck and listened to the soft revolution of words.

Theodore talked in his sleep. That night, all he repeated was "Blaise."


End file.
